Broken
by Tessa Timmerman
Summary: Sherlock and Molly had been happy, happily dating for some time. That is until Sherlock screwed it up, of course.
1. Chapter 1

**I wrote a thing...**

* * *

Molly Hooper felt numb. She could faintly feel the tears that made their way down her face. Sherlock was standing in front of her, trying to console her, but she didn't listen. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her heart shattering.

In the middle of the room stood Irene Adler, clad in only Sherlock's bathrobe, smirking at the pathologist.

Molly snapped out of her reverie and walked past Sherlock to the bedroom, their bedroom. Moments later she emerged with a small suitcase in one hand, the other balled up next to her hip. She walked up to Sherlock and took his hand, facing its palm up. Then she opened her own hand and dropped whatever was in it in Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock glanced down, and saw that on his palm lay a small ring. Molly's engagement ring Molly had accepted not even three weeks ago.

Molly didn't look Sherlock in the eye, she just couldn't, and walked towards the door.

"Say something." Sherlock said, his voice raw.

There was a moment before Molly took a deep breath and answered.

"I'm giving up on you."

With that, Molly walked out of the door, crying and utterly heartbroken.

* * *

Sherlock stood in the middle of the room for a long time after Molly left. He was ripped from his thoughts by the voice of The Woman.

"So, that went well. She was dull anyway."

Sherlock's head snapped up and he glared at Irene. When he saw her there, only wearing his bathrobe, he couldn't but feel his heart churning.

He hadn't known it would end in sleeping together at first. She was in his – their – flat. He had sending her away, but The Woman wouldn't leave without getting what she wanted. So he'd given her just that. They were lying on the bed, panting, when Sherlock heard the front door open. He told Irene to stay put but of course the woman didn't listen. She walked straight into the kitchen where Molly had started on dinner. Sherlock quickly followed to cover her with his bathrobe, but Molly already knew what had happened. He could see her expression change from shocked to disgusted, and finally, into utter sadness. He could see the heartache in her eyes. And how Sherlock despised that look.

He'd wanted to follow Molly, explain what had happened. He wanted her to look at him with love and adoration again, a look he had gotten used to over the years of their relationship.

Then his attention went back to Irene, who was still smirking and was about to walk up to him.

"Leave. "Sherlock said, his voice ice-cold. "Get out of my life."

Irene looked shocked, but obeyed. After changing clothes, she left 221B.

Sherlock sat in his chair and grabbed his phone, dialling John's number.

_"__John Watson speaking."_

"John? I need your help."

He heard a sigh from the other side of the line.

_ "__If this is about Molly, deal with your own damn business. Molly is a lovely girl and she doesn't deserve this, Sherlock. I thought that if you would love someone, it would be an amazing thing. That you would finally put someone else's needs before yours. But you don't care, do you?"_

It was silent for some time.

"John." Came Sherlock's voice.

John had never heard his friend sound so sad, so unsure. It was evident he was crying.

"John, I need her. I love her! Please help me. I know I fucked up, I know. But I can't go without her anymore."

_ "__I'm sorry, mate,"_ Came John's reply. "I can't help you. Not this time."

"I know." Sherlock sounded heartbroken, and John couldn't help but feel sad for his best friend.

_"__Good luck."_

The line went dead.

* * *

John walked back to the living room. There he was met with the sight of Mary holding a crying Molly, trying to console the woman.

"She was wearing his robe, Mary. His." Molly cried.

"It's going to be okay, honey. How about you take a nice, hot bath to relax a little, okay?"

Molly nodded and made her way to the bathroom.

Once out of sight, Mary turned to John.

"So, how is he?" She asked.

John sat down beside his wife.

"He was crying, heartbroken even, that's for sure. He needs her." John sighed and rubbed his eyes, leaning into the couch. "He screwed up this time."

"Should we call Mycroft? Is tonight a danger night?" Mary asked, knowing about Sherlock's struggle with addiction.

"I don't think so. He wouldn't want to hurt Molly more, and he promised her to never touch the stuff again."

"But you know Sherlock. Promises aren't going to keep him from doing what he wants to do." Mary sighed.

"This is different, this is Molly."

Mary leaned her head on John's shoulder and he proceeded to plant a kiss in her hair and wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"It's going to be okay, you know. They love each other."

"Yeah, but is love going to be enough?"

* * *

**so yeah.. review and let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wrote another chapter for the thing.**

* * *

Sherlock was lying on the couch, deep in thought. His mindpalace had been taken over by Molly; the way she had looked at him with so much sadness and sorrow. The way she didn't look back when she walked away. His chest felt heavy, like a weight had been put on it and was pushing down. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks at thought of never kissing Molly again. Never holding her again.

A knock on the door caught his attention.

"Sherlock?" Sounded Greg's voice. "Sherlock, open up!"

Sherlock sighed and slowly made his way to the door. He opened it and was met by Lestrade's fist striking his jaw. Sherlock staggered back a few feet.

"That's for hurting Molly, you git!" Lestrade was fuming.

Sherlock had never seen the DI so angry.

"This is not your division, Gavin." Sherlock muttered while making his way back to the couch.

"Like hell this is my division!" Greg shouted, not giving a rat's arse about Sherlock getting his name wrong. "I love Molly, Sherlock. And I know that, right now, she's crying her eyes out over you."

Greg sat down in John's chair and held his head in his hands.

"Well," Sherlock started. "I love her too, and I would do anything to change the past!" Sherlock said. He was crying by now, but couldn't care less about the DI seeing it.

"Well mate, it's too late for that now." Greg muttered, sinking back in the chair and listening to the faint sobs of the consulting detective.

* * *

Molly was sitting on the couch. The tears had finally stopped running, but that didn't mean Molly was any less heartbroken. She just stared at the wall.

All she could think about was Sherlock; the way he felt in her arms. How he smiled, laughed. How his face was covered by lipstick stains in the same colour as the Woman's lips. All of the sudden, she felt very claustrophobic.

She had to get out, get away from London. Maybe she could cash in on her vacation days. She hadn't taken any kind of holiday in over 5 years, so she had some left. Yeah, she's always wanted to go to Scotland.

John picked that moment to walk into the room.

"Hey, Molls. How're you feeling?" He asked.

The corners of Molly's mouth twitched up. John was always so kind. If she'd just fallen for someone like him.

"Yeah, well-" She answered. John nodded, understanding what she meant. He sat down beside her and pulled her in his embrace. Molly sighed and leaned into it, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat like that for a while before Molly spoke up.

"I was thinking about taking a holiday." She said.

"Are you sure? I don't think you should be alone right now Molly. Maybe Mary of I, or even Greg can-" Molly cut him off with a kiss on his cheek.

"It's okay, John. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

John sighed, pulling her into his arms once more.

"I know. I just feel like I have to protect you. You're like a sister to me, Molly."

"Thank you. And if it would make you feel better, I guess I can ask Greg to come. I couldn't possibly ask you or Mary, not with the little one on the way."

John nodded and gave her one last squeeze before releasing her to make arrangements.

* * *

It was four days after that when John first saw Sherlock again. The man was sporting an angry bruise from the punch Lestrade had thrown at him.

"Hey, Mate. How're you doing?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood. That failed.

"Terrible." Said Sherlock. His voice was raw from crying and lack of use. "My chest hurts, my jaw hurts, everything just HURTS!" he said, raising his voice to the end.

He turned around and planted himself on the couch, curling up in a ball.

John tried to appear casual by looking around before speaking.

"So," he started. "Molly left for her holiday today."

Sherlock's head snapped up at Molly's name.

"Where? Where did she go? How long will she be gone?" Sherlock spewed his questions like a machinegun does bullets.

John looked at his friend and saw how hollow his face had gotten. He felt his heart break for Sherlock, although it was the git's own fault.

"She asked me not to tell you, where and how long. She also asked me to tell you to stay away. I agree. She wants some time away from London, from you. Give her at least that, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded and moved back into his original position.

They were silent for a while.

"Why don't you take a case? A nice blackmailing or a murder or something? That would cheer you up." John tried, feeling odd when calling a murder 'nice'.

"Can't." Sherlock answered. "Mindpalace has been taken over. By Molly. " his voice broke on her name and John felt sorry for his best friend.

"Well, I should go and check if Molly's ready." John said. "I'll see you later, Mate."

He was about to walk out of the door when he heard Sherlock say his name.

"John?"

Sherlock sounded like a little scared boy. John turned around.

"I really am sorry. I really am. I love her so much, she means the world to me." He said softly. Tears flowed freely.

"I know, Sherlock. Everything will work out in the end."

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

John shot Sherlock a small smile before turning around and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Sherlock was alone with his thoughts again. Molly was going away. For how long? Where to? Obviously Scotland, she'd always wanted to go there. He'd planned for their honeymoon to be there. One question kept coming back in his mind amongst all others; will she come back?

* * *

**So.. leave a review about how it was. good/bad/vomit.**

**thank you for reading :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

* * *

Greg ended up not joining Molly's holiday. Even though he fancied the pants of her, it didn't feel right. Sherlock was his friend, so he decided against it.

* * *

Molly had been gone for three days when Sherlock finally took a case again. When the consulting detective arrived at the scene, Greg was shocked to see him so- normal. Well, as normal as Sherlock Holmes could be. His cheeks were still a bit hollow, but for a man who had been crying his eyes out only a week ago he acted pretty happy. Greg shot John, who followed the detective to the crime scene, a quizzical look. John just shrugged.

"What's the case, Graham?"Sherlock asked. His voice sounded like the chocolaty baritone again.

"Uh, yeah. Murder, we think." Lestrade said.

Sherlock walked over to the body. He took out his tiny magnifying glass and took a closer look.

"There's DNA underneath her fingernails. Find whoever it belongs to and you got our killer. It's the father, in case you were wondering. Really, Lestrade? This was barely a three." Sherlock said and he walked away, turning his collar up in the process.

"John?" Greg stopped the blogger before he could leave. "What's going on? Did he and Molly make up?" Greg asked.

"No," John said. "They haven't even talked yet. I came to check up on him, to see how he was doing, and he was like this. I tried bringing Molly up but he just brushed it off."

"That's strange." Greg muttered.

"I know, but this is Sherlock Holmes we're talking about." John said.

They said their goodbyes and John left the scene.

* * *

It was later that night that John got a phone call.

"John Watson speaking." He answered.

_ "__Um, hey John."_ Came a soft voice.

"Hey, Molls. How are you feeling?"

_"__Uh yeah, not so good. I think you were right. About me being better off not being alone. So I decided to cut my trip short and stay at Greg's for a while, beginning tomorrow. Just until I've found a new place to stay."_

John listened carefully, and his chest tightened at the sound of her voice. It sounded so small, so broken.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." John said, before adding "And, Molly. If you need someone, to talk to, or to cry on, we're here for you. Mary, Mrs. Hudson, Greg and I, you can talk to us."

It was silent for a moment.

_"__Thank you, John. That means a lot to me."_ Molly finally replied. _"Bye."_

"Yeah, bye."

Molly hung up.

"Who was that?" asked Mary, who walked into the living room.

"Molly, she's going to stay at Greg's place. She didn't want to be alone anymore."

"And how's Sherlock dealing with all this?" Mary sat down and patted the empty spot next to her, signalling John to sit next to her.

"That's the weirdest part," John said while sitting down. Mary snuggled into his side and he wrapped an arm around her. "He's actually okay. He's acting like nothing has happened." With his free hand, John rubbed his face.

"Maybe that's his way of grieving. Of moving on. He is Sherlock Holmes after all, he's not like others."

"Yeah," John said, pulling Mary onto his lap. "Now, Mrs. Watson, let's focus on us."

* * *

Sherlock slammed the door behind him, ignoring Mrs. Hudson's protests. He should be over Molly by now. He was, after all, a sociopath. But then why couldn't he stop thinking about her? He kept going back to her room in his mind palace. Not that the room was big enough to contain her. She was everywhere. Just walking through his mindpalace like she owned the place, which of course, she did. Every mindpalace-Molly would look at him with eyes glazed over with tears, like the day she'd left him.

He lowered himself onto the couch, bringing his hands together underneath his chin, and remembered what his brother once said.

'Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.' Mycroft's voice sounded through his head. He'd been right. Emotions hurt. So, Sherlock decided, it was time to lock them away. For good, this time. No more friends, no more caring.

Alone is what he had, alone protected him, and so that's what he would be. Alone.

* * *

Molly had been back for roughly a week now and had been staying with Greg. He'd been a good friend for her; letting her stay, letting her cry on his shoulder. He was a life saver.

Two and a half weeks after 'the Happening', as Molly like to refer to it, she woke up when a wave of nauseousness past through her. She bolted out of her bed and straight into the bathroom, hanging over the toilet just in time to empty her stomach.

Greg, who woke up by the sound of slamming doors, woke up and made his way to the bathroom. Seeing Molly hanging over the loo, he crouched down next to her to hold back her hair, muttering comforting words to her.

After rinsing her mouth and brushing her teeth, Molly turned back to Greg.

"Sorry for waking you." Molly said, giving him a small smile.

"Molly can I ask you something- er- personal?" Greg asked, fidgeting with his hands.

"Um, yeah, sure." Molly answered.

"Were you and Sherlock- um- you know," Greg felt uncomfortable. "being- save?"

Molly's cheeks burned a bright red and her eyes went right down to the floor.

"Uh, I'm on the pill, so-." Molly said softly.

"The pill isn't always, like uh- effective, right?"

"What do you mean?" It finally got through to Molly. "Oh, Greg. You don't think I'm pregnant, do you?"

The tips of Greg's ears were sporting a slight reddish tint.

"Well, if you think about it; You are experiencing morning sickness, and yesterday, when you took a glass of pinot noir, which is normally your favourite, you had to keep yourself from spitting it out in disgust, so you've got the change in appetite." Greg explained.

"Oh, don't be silly." Molly said, fetching her phone to look at the date. "I can't possibly be-," It was the 24th. Her period was late. 4 days late. It was never late. "-Pregnant." She finished, staring at her phone.

"Greg, could you call Mary and ask her to come over. And let her bring pregnancy tests, many, many pregnancy tests."

Greg immediately went to call the Watsons, leaving Molly alone with her thoughts. She was having mixed feelings about this. On one hand, she'd always wanted to be a mother, and she wasn't on the right side of 30 anymore, so this could very well be her last chance. But on the other hand, she and Sherlock weren't even on speaking terms. How was she going to break the news that he was going to be a father? And, of course, she was still mad at him. Furious.

She curled up onto the floor, and for the millionth time that month, she let herself cry.

* * *

**So, yeah, just let me know.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the wait, I've got exams to study for and stuff like that.**

**so, here it is.**

* * *

Molly looked at the pink stick in her hands.

_Positive_

She was pregnant.

Pregnant with the baby of her cheating ex-fiancé.

She looked up and locked eyes with Mary, whose eyes were filled with question.

"It's positive. Again." Molly said, tears threatening to spill.

Mary walked up to Molly and gathered her in her arms.

"It's going to be okay, Molls. We can go talk to Sherlock."

Blimey, Molly thought. How would Sherlock react? Would he be angry? Happy? She was clueless.

"I think I should talk to him on my own, Mary." She said, her voice a whisper.

Mary nodded in understanding and let go of Molly.

Molly grabbed one of the tests and gathered her stuff.

* * *

Sherlock was at home. He stood by the window as he looked down on the street.

He was about to go into his mindpalace when he spotted Molly exiting a cab and walking towards 221B. Quickly, he ran to his chair, trying to look bored. Downstairs, he could hear Molly talk to Mrs. Hudson.

"Hi Martha. Is Sherlock home? I need to speak with him." He heard Molly say.

"He's upstairs, dear. Go on, I will drop by with some tea later."

He listened as she walked up the stairs and knocked on his door.

"Sherlock? It's- um it's Molly. Can you open up?"

Sherlock placed his cold mask back, so his face was a void of all emotion. Silently, he walked to the door and opened it.

"Miss Hooper." He greeted her coldly.

Molly felt uncomfortable. Why was he being so- cold and heartless?

"Um- can I talk to you for a second?"

"If you must." He said, walking back to his place in front of the window.

Molly silently closed the door behind her and walked to the middle of the room. She could still see Irene standing there. That image was burned in her mind, but they had bigger issues to discuss at the moment.

"Sherlock, I'm pregnant." There, it was out. Molly closed her eyes and braced herself for what would come next.

With her eyes closed, Molly didn't see the way Sherlock's head snapped up and around to face her. She couldn't see the conflict that graced his face for just a second, before the mask was back in place.

"And the father-" Sherlock began.

"Is you." Molly finished for him. She'd opened her eyes now, and all she saw were his cold eyes looking at her. She didn't know what was going on in his mind.

Sherlock turned his back to her once more.

"I have no interest in being a father, Molly."

Molly was shocked. She thought he'd be angry, or happy, or- something. But he wasn't.

"Do you even feel anything, Sherlock?" She asked, her eyes glazed over with tears for the second time that day. "Anything at all. I'm pregnant, with your child, and you're turning your back on me. You bastard. You heartless bastard." Her voice was almost a whisper. Silently, she placed the pregnancy test on the table and turned around to leave.

"Oh, dear. Leaving already?" Hrs. Hudson stood in the doorway with a tray.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson, maybe another time." She shot the landlady a small smile and walked down the stairs, away from Baker Street and its inhabitant.

* * *

"What did you say to that poor girl, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she sat down in John's old chair. Then she spotted the pregnancy test.

"Oh, dear. You better make this up to her; a sweet woman like her doesn't deserve this." Mrs. Hudson said, picking up the test.

Sherlock didn't react. He looked out of the window and watched how Molly struggled to hail a cab. Every cab that passed by would pass her, not noticing her or just ignoring her. After another try, he saw Molly lifting her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook lightly. She was crying.

Sherlock felt a churn in his stomach. She was the woman he had loved, the mother of his child.

He had promised to himself not to hurt her anymore, to stay away. But as it turned out, that hurt her even more.

Sherlock sighed and looked at Mrs. Hudson, who was now silently sipping a cup of tea.

"I know, Mrs. Hudson, I know."

He took one more glance out of the window, and saw Molly had gone. He felt a strange feeling of loss inside of his chest.

* * *

**So, let me know, yeah?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Next chapter.**

* * *

When the third cab passed her by, Molly gave up. She lifted her hands to her head and rubbed her eyes, trying to rid the tears. It didn't work. Her shoulders began to shock and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

'Why was he being so cruel?' she thought. 'I don't deserve this.'

Cabs still didn't stop so she decided to walk.

* * *

When she arrived at home, she noticed the door was slightly ajar, so someone was inside. She grabbed the baseball bat she kept near the door and walked in slowly. She held onto the bat a little tighter when she saw Irene Alder sitting in her living room.

"Why are you here?" She asked, her voice strained.

"My, my." Irene said, standing up and moving to stand in front of Molly. "You really are a pretty one, aren't you?" She trailed Molly's jaw line with her index finger.

Molly stepped back, still clutching the bat.

"Get out of my house. Now." Molly said. She straightened her back a little more and walked away from where they stood, entering the kitchen.

"Oh, don't be like that." Irene shouted after her, but Molly kept walking.

When Molly re-entered the living room, Irene was gone. Molly sighed and sat down on the couch. She hugged her legs to her chest when her eye caught a small note lying on the table. She picked it up.

On the front her name was written in an elegant scrawl. He opened the small card and began to read.

Dear Molly,

I sincerely apologize for what happened between Sherlock and me.

Even though I do want him for myself, I never meant to hurt you.

I thought your relationship was strictly platonic, but I was obviously wrong.

I can see that he loves you now, and I hope you will forgive me for my deeds.

Yours faithfully,

Irene Adler.

Molly looked at the note in awe. Irene wanted her forgiveness. She folded the note and placed it back on the table. Why would Adler care about her feelings? She wanted Sherlock for herself, so she would be like- competition. Molly shrugged it off, not really feeling like caring about Irene or anything at the moment. The only thing she wanted now was pickles.

* * *

Sherlock was still taking cases, as long as they were not murders that would end up with the bodies on Molly's slab. He tried not thinking about Molly and his daughter. Yes, he secretly hoped for a girl. He could imagine a little girl with his curls and mouth, but with Molly's nose and kind eyes. She would be brilliant.

Sherlock was at home after just solving a case. He took low-rated cases, just to keep the trailing thoughts away. But there were no cases to be solved now. Nothing on the blog and nothing Lestrade needed his help with.

So at the moment, Sherlock was sitting in his chair, three patches on his arm, trying to block away any thoughts about Molly or their child. He failed.

His brain made up scenarios in which they were a little family, living together at 221B.

In one particular scenario, He and Molly were watching their little girl sleep from the doorway. He had his arms wrapped around her waist from the back and she leaned into his touch, letting out a small sigh. He would bury his face in her neck, taking in her scent. Vanilla with a touch of lemon, which she used to get the smell of death and decay off her body. She smelled lovely.

"She is so beautiful." She would say with a small smile on her lips.

"Yes, you are." He would react.

He would look at their hands and see the wedding rings twinkle in the little bit of moonlight that crept through the curtains.

Sherlock opened his eyes and sighed. He wanted her back. He _needed _her in his life. But he ruined it, twice now. He thought he could live without sentiment, without Molly, but he was so wrong.

He needed it, craved it even, and he had it, until he made the decision to sleep with The Woman.

* * *

Sherlock didn't hear John enter the flat until the blogger cleared his throat.

"Go talk to her, Sherlock." John said when he saw his friends face. Sherlock looked sad, when he thought no one could see. John could see it too now. It was edged into Sherlock's face, evident even when he tried to look emotionless. It was always there.

"You miss her, you need her in your life. You want to have a family with her, so why don't you just go to her and tell her that."

Sherlock said nothing and just nodded. He slowly stood up from his chair and grabbed his coat, putting it on. When he looked at John again, he saw the man holding out his scarf. Sherlock took it and looped it around his neck.

"Good luck, mate." John said.

"Yes. Thank you." Sherlock murmured as he turned around and walked out of the flat.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing in front of Molly's door. He was nervous; clammy hands, heavy breathing. He tried to give himself a small pep-talk and muster up the courage to knock.

He stopped pacing and stood in front of the door. He lifted his fist and, with one more deep breath, knocked.

He heard the ruffling of blankets and the soft padding of Molly's feet on the carpet.

The door opened and there, in the doorway stood Molly.

She was looking up at him with big eyes, which were puffy and red. Her nose, which he used to kiss from time to time, was raw and red too. Molly had been crying.

'Of course she was crying, you git.' A voice in his head, which strangely sounded like John's, said in his head.

"Are you going to tell me what you want?" Molly asked.

Her voice caught his attention.

He looked over the rest of her appearance. Her hair was dishevelled from lying on the couch. She was wearing an oversized, grey shirt with a logo on it that said 'Star Wars', and black leggings. She was wearing pink slippers. No visible bump was showing yet.

"I- um." He started.

Molly rolled her eyes and was about to close the door again.

"Molly, wait." He said, putting his foot between the door and the wall. "Please, give me five minutes to explain." His eyes were shining, and Molly was in no position to send him away.

"Five minutes." She said, she walked away from the door, leaving it open for Sherlock to walk through. She sat down on the couch again and looked at him expectantly.

"Well, go on then."

Sherlock was pacing again, trying to think of something to say.

"I am sorry, Molly. I am so sorry for what I did. I know it is unforgivable, but please, I want you back in my life. I lied to you. I want to be in our daughter's life." He looked at her with so much emotion. He never was good with words, but he was trying.

Molly gave a little smile, making sure he didn't see it. Putting on a serious face again, she looked him in the eye.

"You hurt me, Sherlock. You hurt me so much." Her voice broke on the last word.

Sherlock nodded. "I know. I would do anything to make it up to you Molly, but please, don't cut me out of your life. I want to know my child."

Molly nodded.

"I won't stop you from seeing her when you want to, but I am not ready to let you back into my life yet. Not after what has happened." Molly said, hoping he would understand.

"Molly?" He asked, his voice uncertain.

"Yes?"

"Can you ever trust me again?"

Molly was silent for a moment. Could she?

"I don't know." She looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. "I don't know."

* * *

**So, let me know, yeah**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the terrible long wait. I have been feeling really tired lately. **

**I hope you like it.**

* * *

Sherlock took a step back and looked down.

Molly sighed and turned away from him. She walked to the window before turning around to face him again.

"You confuse me, you know?" She whispered. Tears were shining in her eyes. "First you say you don't want to be a father, and now you need me, us?" She shook her head.

Sherlock looked up.

"I had time to think." He started. "To work through all of my feelings. I thought that I could divorce myself from sentiment, but I conclude that I can't."

Molly laughed humourlessly.

"So I just have to wait, right? Until you finally decide that you're not above emotions after all?"

Sherlock was at loss for words. Molly was right. He always made her wait.

"I am not going to wait anymore, Sherlock." She said in a strong voice. "I won't forbid you from seeing him, but I don't want you in my life in any other way. I can't."

Sherlock felt his heart fall and shatter.

"Molly..." He started but Molly cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it. Go." She said. Tears were rolling freely over her face.

Sherlock shook his head.

"I am not leaving, Molly." He said.

Molly was about to object when the door opened and Greg stepped inside.

"Molly, I'm ho- Sherlock? Hello." He said. He looked over Molly and saw her tears. He turned to Sherlock once again. "What did you do this time?" He asked him.

Sherlock's jaw clenched. Now there was no way he could talk to Molly.

"I wanted to speak with Molly." He said.

Greg turned to Molly and walked up to her.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked her softly as he slipped his arm around Molly's waist, something that made Sherlock's hands ball into fists with anger and jealousy of some level.

Molly nodded.

"Yeah. Please go, Sherlock." She murmured softly.

Sherlock looked from Lestrade to Molly and back. He sighed and took a step back.

"Just-" He started. "Think about it, Molly. Please?"

Molly didn't look up. She nodded once.

Sherlock nodded to Lestrade and left the flat.

* * *

"What was all of that about?" Greg asked Molly when she had calmed down some more. He had moved her to the couch and made a cup of tea, which Molly was now sipping from.

Molly put the cup down and sighed.

"H-he wants me back in his life. Me and the baby." She said softly. She was staring at the cup on the table.

Greg nodded in understanding.

"What did you say?" He asked. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He added quickly when she didn't answer.

Molly looked up and shook her head.

"It's fine. I told him no. I don't want him in my life. He can be in the baby's life, if he wants, but I can't deal with waiting for him as soon as something gets too difficult."

Greg took her hand and squeezed it softly.

"You will be okay, you know." He whispered. "You will have a beautiful little boy or girl, and you will be a great mum and one day, you will find the right man." He said with a smile.

Molly smiled softly and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you, Greg." She murmured softly.

"Any time." He said, leaning his head against hers.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sherlock was back at Baker Street. He'd taken out his emergency pack of cigarettes and was smoking one after the other. He was about to light another one when Mrs. Hudson walked in.

"Did you talk to her, dear?" She asked him as she sat down in John's old chair.

Sherlock sighed and grunted.

"And? What did she say?"

Sherlock put down the cigarette and slumped down in his chair.

"She's cutting me out of her life." He mumbled. "Not the child's life, but hers." He leaned forward and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Oh, dearie." Mrs. Hudson said. "And she meant it?" She asked.

"She said she would think about it, but I doubt that she will." Sherlock muttered and sighed. He stood up again and walked to the window.

Mrs. Hudson sighed as well.

"Well, you did hurt the poor girl immensely, Sherlock." She said. "She must be heartbroken. A friend of mine had that once. Her husband had cheated on her with the neighbour. Or was it his secretary? Anyways, she was shattered. She wasn't pregnant, of course, but still. She divorced him immediately and moved away."

"Do you think Molly would move away?" He asked softly.

"I don't think so." Mrs. Hudson reassured him. "She has a life here. Plus, she wanted the baby to be in contact with you."

Sherlock let out a deep breath.

"Are you going to try to win her back?" Mrs. Hudson asked him. "You are a smart boy. You should be able to figure out something."

Sherlock picked up his violin and lifted it to his chin.

"I don't think there is much that can be done anymore, Mrs. Hudson." He said, sadness edged into his voice. He lifted the bow and started playing a soft and sad melody.

Mrs. Hudson sighed and listened closely. She could hear the heartbreak the poor dear was going through in the music.

* * *

**Let me know again.**


	7. Chapter 7

**So so so so so sorry for the way too long of a wait! Some issues came up so.. here it is.**

* * *

Sherlock had been throwing himself into cases.

It had been a week, nine days to be exact, since he had talked Molly and hadn't seen her since.

He was solving cases on a roll. Anything that didn't involve for him to go to the morgue or lab, where he was sure he would run into Molly.

He'd wanted to see her, desperately so, but was convinced she didn't want to see him.

* * *

He was standing at the window, playing his violin when Mrs. Hudson walked in.

"How are you today, dearie?" She asked him as she put the tea she was carrying down on the table.

Sherlock just grunted in response and kept playing his fiddle.

"Still haven't gone to see her, then?" Mrs. Hudson concluded.

She sat down in John's old chair and leaned back.

"Obviously." Sherlock muttered as he put his violin down and walked over to his own chair, letting himself fall into it.

Mrs. Hudson sighed.

"You should go see her, Sherlock." She told him. "Check on her at least once, to show her you care. " She added.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that.

"She doesn't want to see me, Mrs. Hudson." He said with a sigh. "Besides, I have my network check up on her and Lestrade talks about her a lot."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

"That's not the same. You should check up on her personally. How is she supposed to take you back if she never sees you?" She said before standing up.

Sherlock watched her as she walked out of his flat before sinking into his mindpalace, thinking about what she'd said.

* * *

Molly sighed as she rolled back the last corpse of the day.

It was 1:30, and she had a doctor's appointment at two.

She took off her lab coat and hung it up as she noticed a figure walking through the morgue doors.

She turned around and found it was Sherlock.

"Sherlock, hi." She said, a bit surprised as she hadn't seen him in a while. She'd thought he'd given up on coming back here, but he probably needed something.

"I can't stay, so you'll have to ask Mike for whatever you need." She said as she gathered her purse.

Sherlock shook his head.

"You have your first appointment today." He simply stated.

Molly nodded.

"That's why I can't stay, actually, so if you'll excuse me-" Molly said.

Sherlock shook his head once again and walked to the door.

"I was wondering if I could join you." He asked, glancing at his feet nervously.

Molly raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment.

"It's your child as well.." She mumbled at last before shrugging. "You can join me."

Sherlock nodded and held the door open for her with a small smile on his face.

Half an hour later they were sitting in the examination room.

Molly was on the chair and Sherlock was sitting next to her on a stool.

Molly was a bit nervous, but those nerves vanished as a kind-looking doctor stepped in.

"Hello, Dr. Hooper." He said with a smile. "Today is your first ultrasound, I assume." He said.

Molly and Sherlock nodded simultaneously, something that made Molly look at him in confusion.

"She has just entered her 12th week." He told the doctor, whom nodded and continued the preparations for the ultrasound.

Molly looked at him again, but knew better than to ask how he knew all that.

The doctor put the gel on her stomach and started with the ultrasound.

All eyes were on the monitor and Molly smiled brightly as she caught a glimpse of what was her baby. She didn't look over at Sherlock, but if she had, she'd seen a grin matching hers adorning his face.

Molly felt tears well up in her eyes as the doctor explained how her baby was positioned and didn't notice she'd gripped Sherlock's hand in the process.

Sherlock gripped her hand just as tightly as he listened and stored everything the doctor said in his mindpalace.

The doctor left to get the couple some pictures of the ultrasound and Molly and Sherlock were left alone. She became aware of the fact that she was gripping his hand and quickly pulled it away, much to his chagrin.

"Um.. Thank you for coming along." Molly murmured as she fidgeted with her hands.

Sherlock shook his head.

"Thank you for letting me come along." He said with a genuine smile.

Molly smiled back slightly and the doctor chose that moment to walk in again. He handed both of them an envelope with the pictures.

"Dr. Hooper, you can make a new appointment at the reception for in a month." He said as he shook her hand, then Sherlock's.

Molly smiled and thanked him before walking out of the examination room with the envelope in tow.

Sherlock followed her out and they walked in silence until they were in front of the hospital.

Molly turned to look at him.

"Well, I should go. I'm having a girl's night with Mary and Martha, so.." She said awkwardly.

Sherlock nodded and shuffled from one foot to the other, not quite sure what to do. After a moment of nothing, he decided to do what he wanted. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a hug, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding her close as he nuzzled his nose into her hair.

Molly was taken aback and froze in his arms. She felt those feelings she hadn't felt for a long time come back stat, and cursed the fact that she was indeed still in love with him.

Sherlock let go after a while and looked at her as a smile grazed his lips.

Molly looked at him confused look before sighing and walking off to her own place without looking back.

Sherlock sighed as well and turned to walk in the other direction.

* * *

**So that was it. Let me know, okay?**


	8. Chapter 8

**So.. I wrote another one. Hopefully you like it.**

* * *

Molly was sipping her tea as she watched Mary walk back from the kitchen with her own cup.

"So, you had your first ultrasound yesterday?" Mary asked as she sat down beside Molly.

Molly nodded.

"Sherlock came with me, actually." She said, looking up at Mary briefly before looking down again.

"He did?" Mary asked with a grin. "That's nice of him."

Molly shrugged and sipped her tea again.

"I guess." She murmured. "It's his baby as well. I could hardly say 'no', could I?"

Mary nodded.

"What happened between the two of you, then?"

"We didn't say much. He held my hand, and hugged me afterwards, when I was about to leave." She told the blond woman.

Mary grinned brightly.

"He hugged you. Just like that?"

Molly let out a deep sigh and leaned back into the couch.

"Yeah.. It was strange. He just sort of.. clung to me in a way, and just for a moment." Molly said. "He confuses me so bad.."

Mary let out a sigh of her own.

"Can't you just talk things out with him?" She asked eventually.

Molly hesitated.

"I'd love that, more than anything." She admitted. "To leave this all behind us, but I can't. I can't just forget about the fact that he cheated on me.."

"I know sweetie.." Mary said as she pulled Molly into a hug.

"I love him." Molly said as she pressed her face into her friend's shoulder. "But he broke my heart.

She felt tears slip over her tears before letting out a soft sob.

Mary hugged her close and mumbled soft words of comfort.

* * *

Sherlock shrugged off his coat and pulled out the pictures of the ultrasound. He walked towards The Wall of Stuff and ripped off some information on the last case he'd finished last, putting up the pictures instead.

He stood in front of it, looking over the pictures and examining them carefully, a small smile grazing his lips.

He was roused by the creaking of the door and turned around to find John standing in the doorway.

"Hello, mate." John greeted when he saw Sherlock. He looked at the wall and noticed the pictures.

"You joined her today?" He asked, stepping closer to the wall to look at the pictures better.

Sherlock nodded as he sat back in his chair.

"Obviously, John." He said with a sigh.

"That's good." John told him as he sat down in his own old chair. "You're showing Molly you care. That's great."

Sherlock just hummed.

"Mary is meeting up with Molly at the moment anyways."

Sherlock sat up slightly and cleared his throat.

"She'll know everything by now, then." He said, looking at his watch.

John nodded.

"The two as them became thick as thieves." He said.

Sherlock hummed and steepled his hands together, placing them against his lips.

"No case today?" John asked.

Sherlock didn't react, as he had slipped into his mindpalace.

John sighed and shook his head with a smile as he left Baker Street, going back home.

* * *

Molly had bid her goodbyes to Mary and was walking home when she noticed a car following her around. She walked around the block and took all kinds of weird ways, but she didn't seem to lose the van.

She stopped walking and fetched her phone to call for help. After some hesitance, she decided to call Sherlock.

She heard the phone go over and silently begged for him to pick up.

When the beep of his voicemail rang through her ears, she took the phone away from her ear to hang up and try someone else when she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned around and came face to face with someone who she though had been dead for years.

She let out a scream and dropped her phone in shock as she saw the gun pointing at her stomach. If he shot, it wouldn't be fatal for her, but it would be for her baby.

She slowly backed away until she felt her back touch the wall behind her and tried to run off to the side, but she was stopped by a hand grasping her wrist tightly.

She blinked and let out another scream when she noticed the butt of the gun approach her and felt it hit her temple hard.

She felt the darkness overtake her as someone hoisted her over his shoulder.

* * *

**I apologize for the shortness, I'm hoping the next one turns out a bit longer.**

**x**


	9. Chapter 9

**I got another one!**

**I hope you enjoy.**

Sherlock was lying on his couch, bored out of his mind. There were no cases to be consulting on and no body parts for experiments.

He sat up and ruffled his hair as his phone rang and quickly picked it up, hoping it was a case.

It was John.

_"__Sherlock, hey."_

"John, you know I'd rather text." Sherlock muttered with a sigh.

_"__Yes, I know, but this is important. Have you seen Molly somewhere in the last few days?"_

Sherlock answered immediately.

"Not in two days, four hours and 23 minutes, give or take." He said. "Why are you asking?"

His interest was piqued.

_"__She didn't show up for work yesterday, and then again today. You didn't talk to her at all? Maybe text?"_

Sherlock thought back, and recalled a missed call.

"I might have. I will call you back." Sherlock said before ending the call abruptly and dialing his voicemail to listen to his messages.

He listened quietly and in shock as he heard Molly's muffled scream, her being hit over the head and soft murmurs of 'load her in'.

He skipped calling John and Greg and immediately pulled out the big guns.

The phone rang a few times before someone answered.

"Hello, big brother of mine." Sherlock said sweetly. "How is the diet?"

Molly groaned and clutched her head as she woke up.

She was experiencing a major headache, but sat up anyways, even though she felt worse than ever.

She took in her surroundings; dull, white walls and a gray, wooden floor. There were no windows. She was sitting on a ratty old mattress, which was the only thing in the room. It was covered with a thin sheet, no pillow.

The door was made of metal. Too heavy to be kicked in by a 5'3 woman, and presumably locked. She checked anyways, just in case, but found her thinking had been right.

She sat back down on the mattress and put a hand on her rumbling, slightly pregnant stomach before noticing the tears pricking in her eyes.

She refused to let them fall and quickly blinked them away when she heard the door being unlocked.

Three men walked in, from which she only recognized one.

Oh, how could she have forgotten that face, with the seemingly black eyes, which were now looking over her, expectant and amused.

"Oh jolly Miss Molly." He said in a sing-a-song voice. "Don't you have yourself a little situation here.."

Molly looked up at him with disgust.

"What do you want, Jim?" She sneered, spitting out his name.

Jim chuckled.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" He mused as he smiled brightly at her,

He crouched down beside her .

"Aren't you going to greet me with a kiss?" He asked her. "Like you used to."

Molly rolled her eyes and turned her head away from him, but he took a tight hold of her chin and yanked it back, forcing her to look at him.

"Let me go." She told him, her voice as strong as she could muster at the moment.

Jim chuckled again and shook his head.

"Oh no, love. The two of you aren't going anywhere." He said as he put a hand on her stomach, rubbing it softly. "He knocks you up and then goes off with another woman like you are some sort of whore? And where is he now?"

"H-he will come for me." Molly said, her voice getting shaky. "For us."

"You've been here for two days, Molls. Believe me, he knows. He just doesn't care enough to come for you."

Molly felt a tear slip from her eye at his words, which he brushed away gently.

"He doesn't want you." Jim concluded, his voice softer now. "But I could take care of you. Both of you."

Molly looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before slowly starting to shake her head.

"N-no!" She yelled as she pushed his hands off her. "Sherlock is coming for me!"

Jim's sweet expression turned venomous as he stood up straight, towering over her sitting form.

"Have it your way then, Mousy Molly Hooper." He growled as he turned his back to her.

He snapped his fingers and his men walked out of the room.

Jim stood in the doorway and turned around to look at her once more.

"He won't come." He told her. "Why would he come for you if he can get /Irene Adler/!? You're just Molly from the morgue. A tool to use when convenient, and her bastard child. He doesn't want you. People like us don't get to be with people like him."

His voice was soft and calm during the whole speech, and that was the part that scared Molly the most; the fact that he was completely emotionless. His face was a void of emotion and his eyes were just.. empty.

He tutted and shook his head before turning around on his heel and walking away.

One of the men closed and locked the door behind him, muffling the soft cries Molly only then let out.

**So, another chapter up. **

**Let me know ****J**


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